


Call Me

by indigoat



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/F, Reader-Insert, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 15:45:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9827132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigoat/pseuds/indigoat
Summary: Your friend Mulder sets you up with his partner from work, the charismatic Dana Scully.





	

You met Fox Mulder when you were in California, working as a relief worker after a category two earthquake. He'd told you that the quake was caused by a spirit, and you told him he was full of it, and then a few nights later you saw with your own two eyes a ghostly figure attack the evacuation centre you'd set up. Mulder had gotten rid of it using some sort of charm from one of the superstitious elderly that was staying in the centre. That night, you pestered him with questions about the paranormal, and he told you he worked on something called the X-Files—unsolved cases that dealt with mysterious and out of this world situations. You even believed some of the stories he told you. He offered to help with some of the quake clean-up after he'd taken care of the spirit, and you gladly accepted. He left a few days later, and you stayed for another month, cleaning up the town and taking care of the victims of the quake.

Maybe a month later, you ran into him at the grocery store back home in D.C. Small world.

Tonight, you were meeting him at one of the hipster cafés downtown for dinner and drinks, like you did maybe once or twice a month. Mulder was full of interesting stories, and he liked to hear about your quirky passion for animation. Over time he had grown to be one of your closest friends.

After a few hours (and a few drinks), when you were both feeling sleepy and honest, you started talking about the hardships of your job, mostly on relationships. It had been a few months since your ex had ended it, after complaining that you were never around.

"Which, to be fair, I'm not," you told Mulder, chewing on the end of your straw. "But they knew what they were signing up for when they started dating me. I'm a relief worker, not a… I don't know, librarian; I need to go where the disaster is."

"You're telling me," Mulder said, swirling the ice at the bottom of his glass around. He looked up at you, then added, "in fact, a friend of mine was just saying something like that."

"Really?" you asked hopefully. You weren't dependent on relationships, but it had been nice to have someone to come home to, and your small apartment had always been large enough to fit someone else comfortably. "Who?"

"My partner at work, Dana Scully. You've met a few times."

He was right, you had. And each time you'd been intimidated as hell (cool, smart women had that effect on you). "The 'skeptic'?" you asked. "Isn't she too practical to get herself into this?" You gestured at yourself, and Mulder grinned.

"Wouldn't you like to find out?"

"Are you setting me up?"

He shrugged. "I guess so."

"What if it doesn't work out? I don't want it to be weird for you."

"Excuses," he said, shaking his head. "Just let me talk to her about it."

 

Which is how you found yourself in a fancier dress than you'd normally wear, sitting at a table for two alone, your eyes glued to the face of your watch. What if she didn't show? That would be so embarrassing. What if she did show and thought you were boring and told Mulder she only dated cool women? What if—

"__Y/N__?"

You jumped in your seat, whipping your head around. Dana Scully stood in front of you, wearing a simple white dress trimmed with lace and holding her pocketbook in front of her. You jumped up to shake her hand before remembering you weren't in a work setting, but by then it was too late. Her hand was cool and you cringed, sure your own palm was sweaty with nerves.

"Hello," you finally said, realising you'd been wrapped in an internal monologue and hadn’t said anything out loud to her yet.

"Hello," she said back, smiling. "I'm glad you agreed to this."

"Me too," you said, sitting down again with her. You picked up a menu just to do something with your hands.

Your waiter approached the table and you both ordered, you grateful for the few moments you had to collect yourself. As Dana handed her menu to the waiter, she said, "So, __Y/N__, Mulder tells me you work in relief?"

"Yes," you said, grateful for the conversation starter. You could ramble about your work all day. Talking to her, you felt yourself start to relax. She was slowly becoming less intimidating and more and more friendly. Before you knew it your food had been served and she was laughing at something you said as she reached for her glass of water.

She was telling you a story from college when her cellular rang.

"Excuse me," she said to you, pulling her phone from her bag. Into the receiver she said, "Scully."

She was quiet for a few moments, listening, then said "Yes, of course. I'm on my way."

She put the phone down and turned her attention to you. "I'm sorry, I got a call from work. They need me at the lab…"

"Oh, that's fine," you said. "Hang on—" You flagged the waiter down and asked for a check. "I'll pay."

"Absolutely not," Dana said. "I'm the one that's leaving in the middle of a date."

It was worth her leaving now just to hear her call your meet-up a date. "Split it, then," you said. After the two of you paid and wrapped your leftovers in doggie bags, you walked her to her car.

"I'm glad you came," you said sincerely.

"I'm sorry I had to leave," she replied. "Can I call you sometime?"

"Of course." You scrambled for a piece of paper and pen, but she held out her hand. You scribbled your number across her palm and stepped back.

"'Bye." She gave you a shy smile as she pulled the car door shut behind her.

You said goodbye and watched her leave, then felt a smile break out on your face. This had gone, well, not how you'd expected, but better. And she was going to call you sometime.

 

Sometime ended up being two days later. When you got home you checked your voice mail, and Dana's warm voice filled your apartment, saying thank you for being so understanding, and did you want to meet up again this Friday? You called her back and left a message with the most nonchalant "yes" you could manage.

However, that night a freak hurricane hit the coast of southern Florida. You woke up to a call from your boss saying you needed to get on the first plane available. As you shoved clothing and supplies into your backpack you called Dana and left another message, saying that there had been a hurricane, you had a flight to catch, and maybe you could reschedule when you got back. Oh, and you were sorry, this sort of thing happened a lot with you. Bye! You drove to the airport and got on the plane.

You spent the next fortnight delivering supplies, organising search parties and evacuation shelters, and caring for the victims of the hurricane as best as you could. You were kept so busy you didn't have much time to think about Dana, and the phone in the makeshift office couldn't reach her number. You threw yourself into your work, and eventually worrying about a date faded from your mind. It wasn't that you didn't care, you just had more pressing matters to focus on.

When you finally made it home, your apartment had never seemed so welcoming. You collapsed face down on your couch and just sighed, your mind a whirlwind of all that had happened in the past weeks. You loved your job, and you were grateful for the chance to make a direct difference in the world, but it could be incredibly hard. Not everyone could be saved, and you had a trouble coming to terms with that sometimes. Beyond that, you were constantly battling with donors who were unsympathetic to your cause and officials who refused to cooperate.

When you finally got around to checking your voicemail, there were two messages from Dana, one saying she understood and good luck at the site, and a more recent one asking if she could just see you when you arrived home and were feeling up to it.

She was going to tell you there was no point trying to build anything with you being gone like this all the time. You waited until the next day to call her with your address, putting off what you knew was the inevitable, and then spent the next hour doing laundry and cleaning up the mess you'd left behind (you were rather disorganised when it came to packing). At three thirty the bell to your flat buzzed and you opened the door. Dana was dressed in her work clothes, which made you self-conscious, as you were still in a stained grey t-shirt and baggy jeans.

"Hi," you sighed, ushering her in. She sat gingerly down in a kitchen chair as you flopped onto the couch again.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, peering at you with mild concern. You shrugged.

"I'm a little sore, that's all. Physically. But emotionally, it's a lot."

"I'm sure it is," Dana said, standing up and moving towards you. "May I?"

You flinched involuntarily as her palms pressed gently into your back, right between your shoulder blades. As she began to knead at the knots in your back, you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from making a noise; that was how good it felt. You couldn't even remember the last time you'd relaxed like this. Dana's hands slipped under your shirt, cool against your skin, gentle even as they dug into tender muscle, making you squirm. You were glad she couldn't see your face; you were sure it was clearly showing every emotion you were feeling. The innocent intimacy with her was making your stomach fill with butterflies, big somersaulting ones. "Calm down," you told yourself sternly in your head.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" you asked out loud, turning your head to look at her and adjusting your shirt when she finally pulled her hands away. She smiled modestly.

"Doctors give the best massages," she explained. "We know a lot about anatomy." Were you imagining it, or had she worn the slightest smirk when she said that? You wanted to sink into the couch cushions.

You sat up on the couch, rubbing your shoulders. Dana stood up and walked over to the massive stack of tapes piled against the wall next to your television set. "That's quite the collection. Mulder told me you liked animation."

"He did?" you asked, watching her run a finger over the titles. Animal Farm. Beauty and the Beast. Yellow Submarine. "Yeah, I got into it when I was a kid and it's always fascinated me. All the work it takes to make one 3 second animation? It's crazy."

"I guess you have to be pretty patient," she laughed. You started to reply, but a yawn cut you off.

"You should get some rest, __Y/N__. I just wanted to stop by and make sure you were doing okay," Dana said, crossing the room and reaching for her pocketbook.

"I appreciate it," you said sleepily. "I'll call you."

"Not if I call you first." She smiled at you before letting herself out of your apartment. As soon as the door shut you sat back, sighing with relief. She'd come to check up on you, not to cut off whatever was happening between the two of you. And it would continue, you were sure of it.

 

A few nights later, after you'd finally finished unpacking and had fallen back into your home routine, you called Dana up.

"Dana Scully." Hearing her voice put a silly smile on your face.

"Oh my gosh, is this the first time I haven’t gone to voice mail?"

"I think so, yes. Strangely enough, I was actually thinking about calling you tonight."

"Ooh, that's odd. …Maybe we're an X-File."

"Ha ha, right. I'll let Mulder know when I see him at work tomorrow."

You grinned, twirling the cord of the phone between your fingers. "So, can we make up that date we had like two months ago?"

"Actually, I took the liberty to plan something, if you're free."

"When?"

"This Saturday. Five."

"Where?"

"A surprise, then dinner."

"I'm always free when there's a surprise in my future."

"I'll keep that in mind."

You laughed, sinking to the floor and propping the phone between your ear and your shoulder. The two of you talked all night.

 

"I'm very excited to see what this surprise is," you said to Dana as you met her on the street. She hadn't given you the address, knowing you'd look it up the first chance you got.

"Oh really," she said, taking your hand and starting to walk. "Is that the only reason you're here?"

"Of course. I am in no way, shape, or form interested in the cute redheaded agent that also gives really good massages. Not at all."

"Well, I'm glad I know where you stand," Dana said, smiling. She checked her watch. "You should find out in about five minutes."

"Unless a freak tornado hits somewhere and I have to leave."

"And Mulder calls me and tells me we need to fly to Michigan and hunt down Bigfoot." The corners of Dana's flickered upward in amusement.

The two of you turned a corner and you realised she'd led you to one of the movie theatres in town. Across the marquee were the blazing words: The Lion King.

"What‽" you half-shouted. Dana laughed at the happiness that was spreading across your face.

A cute redheaded agent who gave really good massages and took you to see animated films without telling you they were just for kids? She was The One.

"Two tickets for The Lion King, please," Dana said to the woman behind the counter. You followed her into the theatre and settled in, you were practically bouncing in your seat. Dana took your hand again as the lights dimmed and the previews began.

 

"Oh my gosh. That was so good." You shielded your eyes from the bright light of the lobby that you and Dana had just exited.

"I'm glad you liked it," she said, but the look on her face made the word glad seem like an understatement. The two of you walked out of the theatre, the sun had begun to set and was throwing pink and yellow light across the faces of the buildings. "As for dinner…"

"Yes?"

"I was planning on making something for us, at home. If you want."

"Really? Of course I want." Yes, you wanted her to take you home.

 

Dana had to find out the hard way you weren't much of a cook, but she'd just been planning on spaghetti and heated sauce from a jar anyway.

"I can buy you a new pot," you whispered, mortified, staring at the bottom of the one you'd somehow managed to burn. You could save victims of natural disasters, but you couldn't boil water without burning it. Who even does that?

"Don't worry about it," she said, trying and failing to keep amusement out of her voice. She took the ruined pot from you and set it gently on the counter. "Why don't you just sit? I can handle this."

The two of you sat down twenty minutes later, bathed in the warm glow of a candle Dana had lit. The food was good and the conversation was easy, fun. You asked her why she joined the bureau. She asked you what your favorite movie was. You swapped stories about traveling to different places. She smiled at you as she tucked her hair behind her ear and you melted.

You insisted on helping her with dishes, being very careful not to drop any of the fancy China you'd been eating off of. When you finished, Dana excused herself to the bathroom and you looked around her living room and spotted a shelf of vinyl. Figuring it was okay to check out, since she'd done the same with your movie collection, you started to lead through the records.

"That one has my favourite song," Dana said, coming up behind you and resting her hand on your back. You pulled it from the shelf.

"Fleetwood Mac," you read. The cover art was a picture of a bearded man holding the hand of a woman sinking into a curtsey.

"Rumours, 1977" she replied, taking it from you and pulling the record out. Carefully she placed it on the player and moved the tonearm to the end of the record. "'Songbird', sung by Christine McVie. I love that woman."

"How much? Do I have competition?"

"I think she's too old for me. You're safe."

"Good."

She smiled and took your hands as the first piano notes started. The sound filled you as you moved around the room with Dana, not really dancing, just swaying to the music, drifting closer and closer to each other. You liked the way she fit against you, how you had enough height on her so that her hair tickled your nose.

_"'Cause I feel that when I'm with you,  
It's alright, I know it's right._

_And the songbirds are singing,  
Like they know the score,_

_And I love you, I love you, I love you,  
Like never before."_

She was way too close to you now; you could see each individual freckle scattered across her cheeks. One of your hands had sunk to her hip, while the fingers on your other had tangled around hers. She tilted her head up and you leaned forward, catching her lips with yours. She kissed you gently, then fiercely, like she'd been waiting for this moment for ages.

You pulled away and tilted her chin up so you were looking her in the eye. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"What do you mean?"

"Statistically, relief workers don't have very successful relationships," you explained, "I mean, I have to go where the disaster is. I'm gone a lot. My work is a huge part of my life."

"You are aware that all of what you just said applies to me as well?"

You nodded silently. Dana took your hand again. "I don't care about any of that. I think you're funny and sweet and passionate about fascinating things and you have a good heart. If you don't mind me leaving in the middle of the night to chase Mulder and his overactive imagination, then I don't mind if you have to stay in some disaster torn country for a while and help put it back together. In fact," she smiled, "the fact that you do that makes you even more attractive to me."

"I just don't want to fall for you only to have you leave." The honest words escaped your lips before your brain could stop them. You bit your lip. Dana smiled.

"Then you'll have no choice but to fall for me," she said softly, moving the tonearm on the turntable to restart the song, "because I'm never going to leave you."

**Author's Note:**

> I took the liberty to write this because there are close to no Scully/Reader fics online and I'm gay and love her so I decided to change that. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.


End file.
